


Royalty

by TheVeryLastValkyrie



Series: And They Fell Like Dominoes [7]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - After College/University, Drabble Collection, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 10:41:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4016680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVeryLastValkyrie/pseuds/TheVeryLastValkyrie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of a filthy rich boy and a clever dick girl at one of the world's most prestigious universities; of cheap wine and red plush; of betrayal, and bad blood, and her reading glasses. This time, it's not their engagement party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Royalty

**Author's Note:**

> Migrated from my Tumblr. Here be F words, and a lot of other words besides.

It seems like forever since he passed out – out of training, not out of consciousness (although that does happen on a far more regular basis since the bright bubble of being twenty and being beloved popped). His family is now the boys who went away to play war with him, the men whose milk he steals in the morning, only to slop far too much into his coffee while mulling over the question of whether clocking on to Her Majesty’s service at eight and pouring his first brandy at seven are necessarily incompatible. Aramis excels at predicting lottery numbers, but he never buys a ticket (he doesn't need to). Porthos cleans, and the cleaning lady smokes Marlboros (so they take pity on her, because she actually has to work for a living).

He closes his eyes in the glass-floored lift which shoots him up to the party on the thirty-third floor. The walls are smooth, with no floor buttons, the girl with the perfect nails at the reception desk below in control now. Everybody needs something, he supposes.

The doors sigh open.

“ _Fuck_.”

Ollie says it softly, but she hears him. She’s only a few paces away from the bank of lifts herself, wearing a white dress signifying nothing, with her hair a little longer, a little lighter. In one hand, she holds a glass of champagne. There’s an almost comically large cheese straw in the other. How, he wonders, will she ever manage to eat such a thing without destroying the perfect picture of her he’s been holding in his head (in his heart, in his spank bank)? It ought to have ragged edges from all the wanking and worrying, but it’s not real.

Like Annie’s not real.

Like it’s unreal, seeing Annie.

Like Annie’s not real, and it’s unreal, seeing Annie, because she promised he’d never see her again.

“Athos.” She greets him like they’re old uni friends, nothing more, not whatever they are, nothing less, like he’s a crashing bore she ran into again at a nightclub with royalty in attendance and she doesn’t care to use his first name. He steps out onto the ecologically sound wooden floor.

“Milady.”

Her green eyes snap, and she lays her right hand on his left cheek to kiss him hello. Well-bred though she isn’t, her lips never touch him; it’s a polite kind of kiss, or is until he turns into her neck, rubs his jaw against the juncture between chin and throat. It’s a lovely little patch of skin (and a polite kind of kiss just won’t cut it).

“This is my engagement party.”

“And?”

“Go fuck yourself, Ollie.”

She hisses indignantly through her teeth when he grips her shoulder. His grasp is hard enough to remind her _exactly_ who he is, but not hard enough. No one holds her hard enough, otherwise she wouldn’t shudder when he does it. The party goes on behind her, flutes and tumblers clinking, comically large cheese straws being passed around like phallic tributes to the god who'll decide the fate of her future children – and Annie doesn’t even like cheese straws, unless something fundamental has changed about her. Where she was born, cheese straws came in frozen party packs, and she hated them.

“I still have that pair of your knickers.”


End file.
